You Can Finally Meet My Mother
by Hisa-Ai
Summary: When Arthur and Merlin make a deal in the dark of the woods one night, one of them might have to be make good on it sooner than ever expected. "Well, for what it's worth, I'm fairly certain my mother would have loved you."


**There is a song by the band Train called "You Can Finally Meet My Mom," and, whilst listening to it the other night, I was struck with inspiration for this baby here. **

**Very slight AU in which Merlin is _not_ the key to Arthur uniting Albion. He's definitely an asset, but, if he were to die, the kingdoms would still be united by Arthur on his own, and _damn_ the Great Slash Dragon and whatever he has to say on the matter.**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Merlin or the song "You Can Finally Meet My Mom," which was the inspiration for the treasure you are about to read.

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**Title:**

_You Can Finally Meet My Mother_

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**Fic:**

Arthur loved Merlin more than anyone else in the world. He might not have always been able to express it in so many words, but _Arthur_ knew and _Merlin_ knew, and that was all that really mattered.

_They_ knew.

They knew from the way Arthur put himself in harm's way for Merlin's sake; from the way he let Merlin get away with calling him names, with bossing him around. They knew from the meaningful glances and lingering touches, the deep conversations that lasted well into the night. They knew from the shared memories and pain.

_They knew__. _

So it never bothered either of them that the feeling was never expressed in so many words. They both figured that some day, sooner or later, it would be said. But until then, they were perfectly all right with the way they handled their relationship, with subtext and meaning that not everyone else was aware of.

Sometimes, on those nights when they were tucked into the dark of the woods on late night patrols or quests, they would indulge in the familiarity, the ease, the warmth and comfort that was allowed to take over when it was just the two of them and they could just _talk_. About nothing, about life, about memories from a life lived before the other was in it.

On even rarer occasions, they would talk about the deceased in their lives. Merlin would talk about Balinor, Will, Freya; Arthur would talk about lost knights Merlin had never known, Ygraine, Uther. They would talk, reminisce, laugh and smile against the pain, comforted in the fact that they had someone to share their grief with, someone who understood their pain and who shared it with them without protest, without concern for their own well-being.

"You and Will might have got on, you know," Merlin told Arthur on one of those rare nights, his lingering smile the ghost of a laugh that had just died down from an old childhood memory he'd chosen to share of him and Will getting into some sort of trouble. "If you'd met under different circumstances." He added, as though Arthur needed to be reminded of Merlin's best friend and the way he had met his demise.

It was just the two of them that night, and they were both glad for that—Arthur especially. He valued these stolen moments with Merlin more than he would ever let on to anyone else. Sometimes, he thought they were the only thing keeping him sane under all the pressure of ruling a kingdom such as his.

"That right?" Arthur asked, his grin slowly fading as he felt the mood shift.

But then his smile returned not a moment later despite the feeling of dread that was creeping over him. Conversations like this... They were one of the things that reaffirmed Arthur's strong feelings for Merlin, and reminded him of Merlin's strong feelings for _him._

"Oh yeah," Merlin nodded, and if anyone could make a head movement seem sarcastic, it was _Merlin_. "You would have hated each other enough that it would have balanced out into a sadistic sort of friendship. Would've been fun to watch."

Arthur rolled his eyes, a light chuckle breathlessly echoing Merlin's. He almost didn't want to admit Merlin was right about that, but… he probably was. Will and Merlin had seemed like brothers, in the short amount of time he had known him, so Arthur didn't doubt he would have gotten on with Will in the nature Merlin suspected.

"Would I have liked the girl?" Arthur asked carefully a heavy moment later, the topic alluring and frightening all at the same time. Merlin never much talked about her, but Arthur was always curious, always wondering what Merlin had loved about her, what she was _like_. For the great king he was supposed to be, he usually couldn't seem to gather up the nerve to ask about _her_, but they were talking about deceased loved ones anyway…

"Freya, you mean?" Merlin asked somberly, stoking the fire for a long moment before looking back to Arthur.

Arthur didn't answer, he knew he didn't need to. He just let Merlin have a moment of thought, mull it over for as long as he needed to. It was just the two of them there that night, after all, there was no rush to finish the conversation before a knight came looking to change the guard.

Merlin nodded slowly after a few minutes, thoughtful in the action. "Yeah. Yeah, I think you would have... Well, you would have liked her loyalty, her willingness to sacrifice herself for those she loved… You would have liked that_ I_ liked her." He said with conviction at last, still nodding slightly.

Arthur nodded slowly as well, allowing the silence to take over for a long moment, his hand finding its way to Merlin's in a silent act of support. He knew how hard it must have been for him to talk about her, even just briefly. Even after all the time that had passed, Arthur didn't doubt that a part of Merlin still loved her dearly. From what he _had_ mentioned of her over the years... Arthur was almost sorry he had brought it up.

Merlin squeezed his hand, smiled softly. "I _would_ ask if your father would have liked me, but I think we both know the answer to _that one_…" He said, almost bitter with the joke and all that it truly meant.

Arthur grinned suddenly, glad for another change in mood, bumped his shoulder against Merlin's. "Well, for what it's worth, I'm fairly certain my mother would have _loved_ you."

"You've never met her, you can't be sure of that." Merlin interjected indignantly.

"She would have _loved_ you,_ Mer_lin." Arthur insisted.

"I don't—"

"Tell you what," Arthur cut in suddenly, eyebrows raised with challenge. "When we die and go to whatever sort of afterlife there is, we can ask her. Sound like a deal?"

Merlin smiled, and rolled his eyes, but nodded all the same.

"Deal."

Arthur smiled back at him, warm and loving for a moment before deciding it'd be best if they went to bed; they had a long day of travel ahead of them, after all.

It was a peaceful night after that, their dreams sweet with the physical comfort of Arthur wrapped around Merlin, trying to shield him from whatever he feared might be lurking about in the dark or in their dreams.

Neither of them expected to have to make good on their deal so soon after making it; they thought their deaths, while always _seemingly_ imminent, would not happen for many years now, and it would be something to deal with when they were old and had lived full lives together.

But the next day, when Merlin lay dying in Arthur's arms, injured beyond the help of herbs and his own magic by a group of bandits that had ambushed the pair, his life slowly slipping out of him… Arthur was glad they had made it, in a way. It would bring him some sort of twisted peace in the time after Merlin's death. He would be reunited with all those they loved and missed. And Merlin would get to find out, once and for all, how Arthur's mother had felt about him all this time.

He tried, very briefly, to see the brighter side of the situation. But... Merlin was _dying_. There wasn't really a bright side to that, now was there?

"I'm sorry, Merlin…" Arthur managed to choke out, damning his own policy of no man being worth his tears, because this was _Merlin_, and he was worth all the tears his whole kingdom had to offer. The world would be much too dark without Merlin in it, much too painful; if anyone's passing deserved to be mourned in such a vulnerable way, it was Merlin's.

"Don't be," Merlin chuckled, his face contorting in pain with the effort. "Now I can ask your mother what she's thought of me, if I've been good enough for her prat son." His hand came up, traced Arthur's lips as they quirked up bitterly.

Arthur closed his eyes for the briefest of moments, nodded. How fitting was it, just the morning after they'd talked about lost loved ones, that Arthur was now losing the one he loved most of all?

And he would have no one to share the pain with. No, he would hold all their pain, his _and_ Merlin's, until his final days now. And it would weigh him down and he would pretend not to suffer because of it, knowing deep within that there wasn't anyone left in the world to understand him or the pain he was going through.

That would be his fate for letting Merlin die. And he would deserve every agonizing moment of it; for letting the bandits get the better of them and not properly protecting Merlin, for failing him. He deserved much worse, but knowing Merlin was dead—and because of _him_, no less—would be its own sort of punishment.

"You can finally meet my mother, Merlin." Arthur whispered his vague approval at the thought. "Be sure to send my love. And tell her… God, Merlin, make sure she knows how much I've always loved you."

"That's cheating. She can't know how much you care about me, or her judgement will be tainted."

"I love you, Merlin." Arthur said bluntly, interrupting the banter that might have been comforting at a different time and place. It might have been the first time he had ever said such a thing to Merlin directly. And it would be the last time as well. At least in this life. "I know I've never said it before—"

"But I've always known, Arthur." Merlin interrupted, always defiant, always needing to get his word in edge-wise to keep Arthur sane and grounded. Even as he lay dying. "I have always known. And I love you, too." He smiled, eyes slipping half-way shut, his own tears trailing down the side of his face.

"God, Merlin..." Arthur shook his head, tightened his grasp, hoping, in some small part of his mind, that the action alone would be enough to keep Merlin with him. "Don't... don't _die_, Merlin. I need you here, there was so much... So much we were supposed..." He wiped at his eyes, too choked up to continue as Merlin's breaths became shallow, his eyes too intense on Arthur to be anything but heartbreaking.

"Isn't there... a-a spell or..." He tried again, trailing off when Merlin smiled sadly up at him, all the answer Arthur would need.

"There's... there's _nothing_, Arthur." Merlin said at last, the final confirmation that _this was it_, Arthur was really going to lose him this time.

All those times they had defied death, looked it straight in the eye and walked away bruised and broken but alive in the least, and _this_ was how it all ended. Not defending the kingdom, not saving anyone, simply a lucky stroke from a man who wanted nothing more than his pound of gold.

It wasn't _fair_.

If Merlin was going to go out in battle, as Arthur had pictured himself going out many times before, he should at least have gone out in a blaze of glory. His death should have been surrounded by a mist of heroism, not tainted by thievery and a 'wrong place wrong time' attitude.

He should have gone out like the great man he was, that Arthur loved.

Arthur's own eyes fell shut slightly, hooded against the pain and grief and the harsh sunlight that _dared_ give the moments of Merlin's final breaths anything _but_ melancholy and grief. Merlin's passing should not be taken so lightly by the world, by Mother Nature, of all forces.

"Arthur..." Merlin's voice snapped him out of his damning thoughts, reminding him that Merlin was _dying_, but not dead quite yet. He had precious few moments left with him. There would be time for grieving, for crying, for damning, for brooding later. Right now... He just needed to make these final moments count.

"Could you... Do me a favor?" Merlin asked, his lips quirking up, eyes twinkling with laughter he bit back, as though keeping some sort of joke to himself.

"Anything." Arthur promised hastily. He would do anything for Merlin. Anything. Especially in his final moments.

"Try not to be such a dollophead when I'm gone, right?"

Arthur chuckled, sure that had been Merlin's intention. "Only if you promise not to be such a clotpole when you meet my mother; I don't need her thinking I wasted my affections on an imbecile."

"Your mother is going to _love_ me, remember? Said so yourself."

"I've never met her, though, remember? Said so yourself."

"Shut up..." Merlin grinned, the light returning to his eyes momentarily as he breathed, "And kiss me, Arthur. _Please_."

Arthur bit his lip, drew in a shaky breath before he leaned down and kissed Merlin slowly, drawing it out for the sweetest of moments, lost in the feel of it, the memories the simple act brought back. He'd kissed Merlin plenty of times over the years, and he was fairly sure they'd had them all: rushed kisses, passionate kisses, angry kisses, loving kisses, desperate kisses, 'good-night' kisses, 'please-don't-die' kisses, make-up kisses, 'see-you-later' kisses, love-making kisses, 'I-need-you' kisses, 'everything's-okay' kisses, 'i-love-you' kisses, 'good-morning' kisses, but never... never _good-bye_ kisses. Never 'you're-going-to-die' kisses.

Arthur would have traded all those other kisses to never have to kiss Merlin like _that_—especially _now,_ in this moment, when it was most likely the last kiss they would ever share.

Arthur pulled back slowly, kissed him softly once more, a mere peck of a shadow compared to the first, his eyes closed but his tears still slipping through.

"Promise you'll never kiss anyone else like that?" Merlin asked, eyes opening slowly.

"Well, there are plenty of others who would be more than willing, but... I could never, Merlin. Not like how it is with you. I promise."

"Good." Merlin let out a slow breath. "I'm... tired now, Arthur. _So tired._"

"Go to sleep then, Merlin." Arthur said. "Go to sleep. It will... stop hurting. Just rest, love. Just rest; it will all be over soon." Arthur soothed, brushing Merlin's hair out of his face, looked down at him as he wiped his tears away, dried his cheeks in the most loving of ways.

"I don't want to leave you, Arthur." Merlin admitted, knocking the wind out of Arthur as his chest tightened with his words, with the absolute _fear_ that he could hear in Merlin's voice.

Arthur realized then that he needed to be strong for Merlin. He had to at least _try_ to convince him that he wouldn't absolutely fall apart without him—because he would. But Merlin's last moments didn't need to be filled with fear and concern about _Arthur's_ well-being, of all things.

"It can't be helped, Merlin, but... But I'll see you again one day. Just... save a spot for me, all right? Keep my mother company until I get there."

His mother. Just the thought of her and Merlin being united in Heaven made Arthur able to pull it together just enough to have this conversation with him. The deal they had made the previous night was a small comfort to keep Arthur from dying of a broken heart right then and there.

"What about your father?"

"Doubt my father will be too pleased to see you." Arthur clucked his tongue, Merlin's wonderful smile lighting up before him for a small moment.

"He never _could_ forgive a sorcerer."

"You don't need his forgiveness, Merlin. Not for anything." He assured him.

Merlin sighed in response, a raspy sort of sound that discomforted Arthur as Merlin settled carefully into a slightly more uncomfortable looking position beneath his watchful gaze.

"Nnngh, Arthur, can you..."

"Anything to help ease it, Merlin. Anything."

"Just... just—just hold me." Merlin sighed again, almost desperate with the very words.

So Arthur did.

Carefully, slowly, he rearranged the two of them so he was holding Merlin closer, tighter yet looser in his arms, trying to fulfill his request yet keep him comfortable all at once.

And that was how they stayed for what felt like hours, Merlin's body growing still and weak, then limp, his life slipping from him in Arthur's arms until there was nothing left for Arthur to love except the shell of a man who had been taken far too soon, gone to meet his loved ones in a place Arthur would not know for many more lonely years.

**Fin.**

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**If you'll notice the parallels to Arthur's death scene in the series—that was intentional. To make you cry all the tears.**

**Sorry if that made you sad, though. Really, I am. You should go eat some ice cream after that; you've earned it. Or, if it's cold as balls where you are right now, go drink some hot chocolate to make it all better. Whatever works for you.**

**Always,  
Hisa-Ai.**


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